Need
by Quadrotriticaile
Summary: Jonathan approached the door hesitantly. For all that he wanted this, it was still difficult in the beginning. To ask, to put himself out there like this and hope that the man would take him. But O'Connell was the only one able to set the breaks right, even if he had to break them again.


He parked down the block and walked to the house, waiting quietly in the shrubbery until Evelyn kissed her man and swanned down the driveway. She was off to give yet another talk on Hamunaptra and the wonders and curses they had found there. She would be gone for hours. Which was all the time he needed.

Jonathan approached the door hesitantly. For all that he wanted this, it was still difficult in the beginning. To ask, to put himself out there like this and hope that the man would take him. He raised a hand to the door, paused to gather his nerve, then rapped sharply several times. The door swung open and Jonathan knew there was no going back.

"Jonathan," O'Connell greeted him with his huge American grin. But the smile faded when he saw the other man's stance. Jonathan's shoulders were hunched and his eyes were down. Nothing like the brash pickpocket he usually portrayed. "Jonathan," he said again, softer.

"O'Connell," his brother-in-law said softly. Then, "Rick. Please."

There was a small pause, an infinite pause, then O'Connell sighed loudly and pulled the door back further. "Fine," he snapped tersely. "Get in."

Jonathan exhaled in gratitude; the game was on. He stepped inside and flinched when O'Connell slammed the door violently. "So what is it this time?" the American spat, rounding on him sharply. "You come for money? Another gambling debt, is that it?"

Jonathan took a deep breath, trying to calm the trembling in his hands. "No, I-"

O'Connell slapped him sharply. "No? What then?" He stepped back and let his eyes wander over Jonathan, tearing him apart with his gaze. Jonathan shook beneath his stare. He hated the waiting, waiting before he would-

"So you came for that." O'Connell said flatly. "You always come wanting something from me, you just can't stop asking favors, you greedy bastard." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Get on your knees then, like you've been wanting since you got here."

Jonathan slid to his knees and bowed his head, focusing his eyes on the carpeting and trying to breathe normally. In, out, in, out, in...

O'Connell snapped his fingers and Jonathan looked up. The man was seated in his chair, beside the fireplace, his hands behind his head casually. His nonchalance made a twinge of doubt go through Jonathan. Did he understand what Jonathan was doing by coming here? Didn't he know? O'Connell made a displeased sound and Jonathan realized he'd been spoken to.

"I _said_ crawl over here, or are you too important to listen to the likes of me now?" Cheeks flushed and eyes down, Jonathan bent to his hands and knees and crawled like a dog to his master's feet. He sat next to O'Connell's chair and jumped when the man's hand descended on his head, roughly caressing his hair like a prized pet.

"What do you want?" O'Connell said, so softly Jonathan almost missed it. He swallowed hard and forced his answer past a throat closing in shame and fear and...lust.

"You know."

O'Connell's hand fisted in his hair and jerked back his head fiercely. "Look at me," he commanded, forcing Jonathan to do just that. "Tell me what you want." Jonathan looked away, trying to get away from the American's piercing stare. He couldn't. O'Connell forced his head back further. "No, no, no, open those eyes." Jonathan did and found O'Connell's face inches from his own. "You don't get to hide from this," he breathed and Jonathan couldn't even think, much less speak. "Tell me what you want or this ends right here."

"O'Connell..." Jonathan choked, willing himself not to look away. "Please. Please, I...I can't."

O'Connell spat, the spittle striking Jonathan's forehead and running into his eyes. "Figures," he growled. "Don't know why I expected something like you to do a simple thing like ask." He stood up, grabbing Jonathan by the scruff and hauling him bodily to the door.

Jonathan closed his eyes. "Wait."

O'Connell stopped.

"Please."

O'Connell dropped him unceremoniously on the floor and Jonathan looked up at him pleadingly. "Well?" the American prompted. "I'm waiting."

Jonathan dropped his gaze, then remembered O'Connell's insistence on eye contact and looked up again. "I..." He faltered and O'Connell snorted in disgust. "I want..." Jonathan took a deep breath and went for broke. "I want you to use me. I want you to treat me like...like I deserve. Please, I..."

O'Connell crouched before him, never breaking eye contact. "What do you deserve?" Jonathan's eyes fluttered closed and the other man slapped him again. "Say it."

Jonathan forced his eyes open. "I'm...I'm a dirty slut," he said, the words making his chest hurt and his face flush. "I need... Use me like the whore I am. Please."

O'Connell smiled. "You want to suck my cock, boy?"

"Yes, Rick."

"You want me to beat you black and blue, remind you of your place?"

Jonathan's reply was a sob. "Yes, Rick."

O'Connell stood up. "Fine. Get your clothes off then."

Jonathan undressed hurriedly, pausing only when O'Connell demanded, "Give me your belt." Jonathan hesitated, clutching the thick leather in his hand. This was going to hurt, oh... But when O'Connell stepped forward to make him, Jonathan quickly handed over the belt. O'Connell ran his hands over the worn leather, snapping it and laughing when Jonathan flinched. "Stand against the wall," he ordered. Jonathan obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the lump in his throat to go away.

The first strike left him breathless, but by the end he was gasping. The pain took the air from his lungs. Tears painted his face and left drops on the hardwood at his feet. His ass and back were red and raw, even bruised in places. But he had not cried out. Vaguely he heard O'Connell drop the belt and start towards him. The other man grabbed a handful of Jonathan's bruised and raw ass and squeezed roughly. The smaller man whimpered, fresh tears running down his face. O'Connell smirked, brushing away the drops with his thumb.

"And did he squeal?" he asked rhetorically. "No. That's my good boy." Jonathan felt a burst of pride. He had done something right. He'd made Rick proud. He fought the impulse to crumble to his knees when O'Connell left him and returned to his fireside seat. "Come here."

Jonathan came, stumbling from the shots of pain where O'Connell had beaten his legs. He collapsed at the other man's feet, biting back a wail as his battered backside came in contact with the fireplace rug. O'Connell ran a reassuring hand through his hair once, then raised his hand. Jonathan cringed, waiting for the strike. But O'Connell waited until his eyes flew open again to backhand him sprawling across the floor. He picked himself up, ears ringing from the strike and from O'Connell's bray of laughter.

"Get me out and suck me then," he said after his hilarity had ceased. "Say thank you for the nice beating I gave you." Jonathan nodded, sniffling back further tears, and busied himself with drawing the American's hard cock from his pants.

He bent to his task with a will, employing all the tricks he knew. O'Connell threaded his big hands through Jonathan's dark hair, pushing his head down when he tried to pull off for air. Then O'Connell started talking and Jonathan just couldn't think anymore.

"You're made for this, aren't you, slut. You try to pretend you're not but, god, if you're this good..." He stopped, thrusting for a second and making Jonathan gag. O'Connell laughed. "Greedy fucking whore," he chided. "Get that greedy mouth around me and do it right, dammit. Stop holding out on me or I'll make you regret it."

Jonathan sucked even harder, trying to breathe around the cock in his mouth and the lump in his throat. He closed his eyes and flicked his tongue and waited for O'Connell to go on. And he did. "What do you think would happen if Evelyn came home early, hm? Saw what a stupid whore her brother is. Do you think she knows you suck my cock? Hell, why not, you suck everyone else in the goddamn city, why not me too. What if she walked through that door right now and saw you like this, huh? What would happen."

He thrust a few more times, chuckling over Jonathan's panicky attempts to breathe. "I know what you really want, though," he breathed. "You want me to fuck you. You want me to bend you over and open that pretty ass of yours with my cock." Jonathan choked, and it had nothing to do with his mouthful. He looked up to see O'Connell studying him. For a split second, a long second, he thought he might actually do it. He willed O'Connell to do it. But the other man just sighed and pushed his head down again.

"Tough, buddy, I'm not having that filth in my house. Who knows what'll come crawling out of your filthy hole if I even tried." Jonathan closed his eyes, wanting to hide, wanting to stay, not knowing what to do. O'Connell lowered his voice threateningly. "But one day. I'll come to your house while Evey's away. You'll turn around and there I'll be and I'll take you right there, anytime and anywhere I want. You might have some friends over, even." He puffed a laugh. "Who am I kidding, sluts don't have friends. But maybe some of those precious business associates of yours, trying to cut a deal."

He leaned close to Jonathan's ear. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, spread open in front of those rich bastards you were trying to impress, letting them watch me tear you open like the bitch you are." He began pushing into Jonathan's mouth, harder and harder. "Might even let some of them play," he went on, his breaths coming ragged now. "What do you think, hm? Whore you out to the highest bidder. Think they'd cut you a better deal on that crap you sell if I let them fuck that tight ass of yours?" Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will away the images, and the way it made him feel.

O'Connell sat back with a sigh that betrayed just how gone he really was. "Of course you probably do that anyway. How many you got now? Ten? Twenty?" When Jonathan gave no sign he raised his eyebrows. "Don't tell me it's more than that?" Still no sign. "You fucking slut, you'd stick it in anything that moves if it got you a little cash, wouldn't you."

Jonathan stiffened in indignation. He let his teeth graze O'Connell's cock warningly. The other man was getting a little too forward now and he needed to be reminded exactly whose dick was in whose mouth here.

There was a soft click and Jonathan's eyes flew open to find O'Connell aiming one of his never-ending supply of pistols at his forehead. Jonathan froze. "Close those teeth," O'Connell threatened lowly, "and it will be the last thing you ever do." Jonathan still didn't move. It wasn't real, all this, it was a game, a game they played. But Rick's eyes were cold and deadly serious and suddenly Jonathan was afraid. "I should've killed you a long time ago," O'Connell breathed. "It would've saved me a lot of trouble. Evey a lot of heartbreak. You're nothing but a thieving, whoring pain in my ass and I'd be better off to end it right now." He cocked the pistol.

Jonathan's heart hammered in his ears. He pulled off and whispered, "O'Connell, no. Please..."

O'Connell seized him by the throat and jammed the pistol against his temple. "If I want to blow your goddamn brains out all over this damn rug I will!" he yelled. "This is my house! My rules!" Jonathan almost swallowed his tongue in fear.

But then O'Connell relaxed, releasing the smaller man and letting him slump to the floor. "But I don't want to leave Evelyn a mess," he said calmly. "That's why you're going to finish me and swallow every drop. Aren't you." Jonathan sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his ass and rubbing his throat. O'Connell leveled the gun at his head again. "Aren't you."

Nodding, Jonathan bent to his task again. This time he really pulled out all the stops, bobbing his head and working his tongue and sucking until O'Connell thrust up into his throat and came with a groan. Jonathan swallowed it all, trying not to wince at the taste, and licked the other man clean until he was pushed away.

Slowly, O'Connell caught his breath again and remembered that Jonathan was there. The younger man was curled up around O'Connell's bare feet, trembling. O'Connell cleared his throat and said, "Sit up." Jonathan obeyed and O'Connell tapped his hard-on with one foot. "And what about this?" he asked softly. "What do you want?"

Jonathan was gone on fear and shame, so far down all he could do was shake his head. O'Connell nodded and pushed his leg between Jonathan's thighs. "So rub off on me, bitch," he commanded. "And be done with it."

Whimpering, shaking, his eyes shut tight against the humiliation, Jonathan did as he was told, humping O'Connell's leg until he came with a short scream. Lights flashed behind his eyelids and it was only with great effort that he didn't pass out. He clung to O'Connell's leg and began to cry in short, shallow sobs.

The bigger man smoothed a hand over his hair and let him, just waiting for a lull. "Was that okay?" he asked softly when the sobbing eased. Jonathan nodded against his knee, not trusting his voice yet. O'Connell's hand moved down to rub his neck and shoulder, carefully fingering the welts he'd left. "That's gonna leave a mark," he said lightly. Jonathan just nodded again. O'Connell frowned. "Are you going to be okay? Look at me." And Jonathan was still too gone to refuse. O'Connell looked at him, concern furrowing his brow. "Are you going to be alright? Did I go too far? Was that... Hey." He bent and gathered Jonathan into his lap.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into Jonathan's neck. "Sometimes I let it go too far. Sometimes I forget." He went to rub the younger man's back, then thought better of it and instead laid a hand on his hip. Even that induced a shudder. O'Connell bit his lip, guilty as he always was after this happened. And, as he always did, he swore he would never, ever let Jonathan talk him into this again.

But even as Jonathan cried against O'Connell's chest, he began putting his broken pieces back into place. O'Connell was the only one able to set the breaks right, even if he had to break them again. And no matter what he said, he would always be there whenever Jonathan needed it, no question. All Jonathan had to do was ask.


End file.
